


Playing with Fire

by Rocky_T



Series: Tightrope [18]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Janeway and Chakotay have dinner in her quarters.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seska (Star Trek), Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway/Owen Paris
Series: Tightrope [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797067
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Playing with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Seema for her beta.

_His lips were on hers, his hands freely roaming her body before pulling her closer. Kathryn sighed with pleasure. It had been so long since they’d been together. “I’ve missed you so much, Owen,” she whispered, thrilling to his touch._

_“I’ve waited so long for this moment, Kathryn,” he said, as he kissed her neck and then suckled her breast. She felt her excitement rise as his lips moved lower, then inhaled sharply as he abruptly entered her. His long, hard thrusts rapidly brought her to climax and she cried out._

_As her breathing stilled, she opened her eyes to see his face only inches from her own. He smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners, the intricate whorls of his tattoo clearly visible on his left temple._

Janeway sat up and gasped for breath, her heart pounding rapidly. _It was just a dream_ , she realized, but the thought brought her no comfort. It wasn’t _so_ unusual for her to have an erotic dream – after all, she was a healthy woman in her prime, and in her career she had often been forced to be celibate for months at a time. Truth be told, in the past she _had_ fantasized about men she never would have dreamed of approaching sexually in real life. But only rarely was it someone with whom she served, and certainly not a subordinate. What kind of message was her subconscious mind sending her?

As her breathing calmed, the rational side of her brain kicked in. Although her marriage had been primarily long-distance from the outset, the circumstances she found herself in now were highly unusual. Bereft of any contact with her husband for the foreseeable future, isolated from her friends and the rest of the Starfleet hierarchy, loneliness was not unexpected. She was fortunate to have one of her longtime friends serving with her, but it was unrealistic to expect Tuvok, a Vulcan, to fulfill her emotional needs. And while she and Tom Paris were finally on their way to developing a warmer relationship, it was still too new, and fragile, to depend on. 

And that left Chakotay, a man she’d found dangerously attractive from the moment they’d met, and someone who’d made no secret of his attraction to her. Despite his Maquis background, his earlier Starfleet training had obviously kicked in and he’d never made an untoward move. Aside from an occasional stray glance, or a comment on her appearance that just barely skirted the line of propriety – such as the time she’d shown up on the bridge during a red alert clad only in her nightgown and robe - he was careful not to cross any lines, for which she was grateful. Chakotay was turning out to be one of the finest first officers she could have asked for, and she couldn’t risk any action or thought – on his part or hers – that might upset the delicate balance of their work relationship. She couldn’t control her dreams, but she could certainly control her actions where Chakotay was concerned.

After a quick glance at the chrono, she rose from her tangled bedcovers and proceeded to get ready for the long day ahead.  
***  
Chakotay sat down, a bit reluctantly, at the dining table in the captain’s quarters. “You don’t need to feed me dinner,” he protested.

“It’s the least I can do,” Janeway said firmly, her hand upraised to forestall any further objections. “We’ve had a lot of late nights recently and it isn’t fair of me to expect you to continually delay your evening meal until after we’re finished. I know I personally dislike eating too late in the evening.” She placed the large serving dish on the table. “This is my grandmother’s biryani.” At his unspoken question, she added, “It’s vegetarian.”

He raised an eyebrow in appreciation. “Thank you. Although everything that comes out of the replicator is synthetic, I still prefer not consuming anything than can be construed as animal protein.”

He watched as she brought out the rest of the meal, displaying no signs of fatigue despite the long day they’d both endured. Her outward demeanor was calm and unruffled, and gave no indication of the lingering disappointment she must have felt from the recent fiasco involving the Sikarian space-folding technology. He knew that more than anything else she wanted to get her people home; not only hadn’t this attempt worked, but the ship had very nearly been ripped apart as a result. A crushing blow, for sure, but he admired the way she was able to pick herself up and carry on.

The Sikarian episode had shown him how much he valued being a part of Starfleet again. Not surprising, as he had enjoyed his years in service until his dismay at the Cardassian-Federation treaty – and the Cardassian aggression immediately afterward - had forced him to resign his commission and take up arms on behalf of his people. Here, far away in the Delta Quadrant, he could resume his Starfleet service without any pangs of conscience that he had abandoned the Maquis cause. He thought again of what B’Elanna had said, when a return to the Alpha Quadrant had appeared imminent, about rejoining their Maquis comrades. He knew that given the choice he probably would do so as well, but he couldn’t deny he would miss what he had here.

A large part of his nearly seamless return to Starfleet was due to the woman who sat opposite him now. By her actions and attitude, the captain inspired people to follow her, made them want to give her their very best. He had to admit that she inspired something else in him as well, something he was reluctant to admit out loud. But as his father used to say, even a blind man could tell when he was walking in the sun. Over the past four or five months, Chakotay’s initial attraction to Janeway had only grown stronger. 

Not wanting to complicate their command relationship, he hadn’t said or done anything overt to reveal his feelings. But he couldn’t help wondering what she _really_ thought of him. After all this time, he was pretty sure she no longer considered him the rogue Maquis commander she’d been sent to capture. It was clear that when she looked at him these days, she saw a Starfleet officer. But was he just a trusted subordinate, or was there potential for something more? 

She was one of the most tactile people he had ever known, in the habit of resting her hand briefly on someone’s arm or shoulder, occasionally giving a brief squeeze before moving on; he’d come to recognize it as part of her command style, a way of showing encouragement or simply making a connection. Recipients of the captain’s ‘laying of the hands’ cut across all segments of the crew, ranging from Harry Kim to B’Elanna Torres to Tuvok. The latter was most surprising, as he’d always thought Vulcans were averse to being touched casually. Everyone but him was included, it seemed, and if he were honest with himself, it bothered him more than it should. He knew she was fully committed to her marriage and yet, sometimes he wondered what it would be like to touch _her_ in a way that was far less professional.

Feeling a dangerous flush of excitement, Chakotay ‘accidentally’ brushed his hand against hers as he reached for his water glass. He took a sip, then picked up his fork and began to eat. “Everything is delicious,” he said.

Janeway smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“The ambience is also better than in the Mess Hall,” he added. “Thank you for suggesting this.”

“My pleasure.”

As they ate and conversed, he stole an occasional glance at her. Despite both being in uniform, the mood between them was distinctly more casual than it had been a short time earlier, while they were still going over the interminable reports. Janeway seemed relaxed, and in her company, he felt the tension easing from his back and shoulders. He enjoyed spending time with her like this, even though he wasn’t exactly suffering from lack of feminine companionship. 

He frowned slightly as thoughts of Seska intruded. His relationship with the Bajoran woman could best be described as “friends with benefits.” He felt a little guilty, as he knew full well he was taking advantage of Seska’s feelings for him. He had no doubts that Seska loved him, and more than anything wanted him to love her the same way. Part of him wanted to. She’d been a good second in command in the Maquis, and on _Voyager_ had never ceased giving him her unwavering support, even when she disagreed with his decisions such as them all becoming Starfleet. But there was something holding him back, and it wasn’t just that he was falling for someone else. There was a certain darkness at her core, most likely due to her growing up under the Cardassian occupation. Whatever it was, he knew he would never be able to commit himself fully to her.

He knew he needed to end things with Seska soon, though he was well aware that they were already past the point where any disentanglement wouldn’t be messy. The way she’d looked at him as she told him he would be a much better leader than Janeway – he could dismiss that as simple flattery on her part, a patently false observation, blinded as she was by her feelings for him. He knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be able to meld the two crews together the way Janeway was doing. For example, look at the way she’d won over B’Elanna Torres to her side. Or even Tom Paris.

The thought of _Voyager_ ’s chief pilot brought a flash of irritation. Chakotay had a long memory; while he appreciated Paris saving his life on Ocampa, and admired his skills on a professional level, it would be a long time before they’d ever be friends. Aside from Paris’s short ignoble stint as a member of the Maquis, something about the younger man rubbed Chakotay the wrong way. “I’m glad you’re not just limiting your ‘dine with the captain’ favors to Tom,” he said out loud. 

“What do you mean by that?” Janeway asked as she took a bite of her salad.

“I noticed that you haven’t been having private dinners with any other members of the crew,” he said lightly, trying to keep the resentment from his tone.

“I didn’t realize you were keeping track of my social engagements,” she said, her voice a bit cool.

He hastily backtracked. “No, it’s not that; being captain can be lonely.” He felt a stab of guilt; she’d confided in him before how important it was to her to build a relationship with Tom. That he suspected Tom was taking advantage of his special connection to the captain was irrelevant here. In an attempt at humor, Chakotay added, “Nor was I implying that there was anything untoward going on between the two of you.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Tom is my stepson, for goodness sake,” she said in exasperation. She took a sip of water, perhaps in an attempt to calm down. “If anyone thinks there’s something ‘untoward going on,’ well, does that mean there’s something improper in you and I having dinner together alone in my quarters? I’m a married woman, after all.” 

He looked at her for a long moment, trying to gauge the intent behind her statement. “I’m sure you heard those rumors that we were sleeping together,” he remarked. “You know, in an effort to buy my loyalty.”

To his surprise, a faint blush rose in her cheeks as she stared down at her plate. “Yes, I’m aware of what was being said.” She cleared her throat. “Fortunately, I haven’t heard anything lately, probably due to lack of evidence.”

Privately, Chakotay suspected that Seska – and her overt jealousy - had been behind the initial rumors. “Of course.” 

“And as I’m sure _you’re_ aware, there are always rumors about the senior staff on a typical Starfleet ship, especially on deep space missions,” she said, her attempt at a casual tone painfully obvious. “Who’s involved with whom, who’s no longer speaking to whom, whose relationship is on the rocks… due to _Voyager_ ’s small size, not to mention our being so far away and out of contact with the rest of the Federation, well, everything seems to be magnified.” She finally looked up. “It’s surprising the rumors aren’t even wilder.”

He wondered why she felt the need to belabor the point. “Have you?” he asked curiously. “Ever been involved with someone on board, regardless of whether you were already committed to someone else?” 

She stared at him in shock, even as he realized how presumptuous his question was. He opened his mouth to apologize. 

To his surprise, she spoke first. “I’m only human,” she said quietly. “There _have_ been times I’ve developed feelings for someone I’ve served with, especially on long tours of duty.” She met his gaze squarely. “But I’ve never acted on them, nor would I ever seriously consider doing so.”

He suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out slowly. “Your husband is a lucky man,” he said at last.

A momentary shadow crossed her face. “Yes, he is,” she agreed, her tone neutral. She paused. “You know what, Chakotay, it’s getting late--”

“And it’s already been a pretty long day,” he said instantly and rose to his feet. “Why don’t we finish up the rest of those reports tomorrow?”

He couldn’t miss her relieved expression. “Exactly.”

“Thank you again for dinner, Captain,” he said formally, and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you on the bridge in the morning.” He left without waiting for a response.


End file.
